


Get Furry

by captainmycatisthedevil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Pack Feels, Were-Creatures, Werefox Stiles, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainmycatisthedevil/pseuds/captainmycatisthedevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Stiles knows is running.  And then he meets the McCall pack.  He learns that family means cuddles, movie nights, wrestling, and piggyback rides.  He learns that supernatural creatures can work with hunters, and run through the woods without fear of death. But he also learns that his safety may not be absolute, and he doesn't know if his new friends can keep him in this new life away from fleeing. Stiles may not perfectly remember what pack is, but he's starting to feel like he may figure out what home feels like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Furry

Stiles ran. He darted through trees, under bushes, heart in his throat. He could hear the hunter’s charging behind him, cursing as Stiles ducks under another fallen log.

 

“C’mere Red! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

 

A gun goes off, and Stiles can feel the bullet blow past his tail.  Adrenaline spikes, and Stiles begins to run even faster, breath coming out in sharp pants.

 

….

 

He’s been hunted for what feels like years, but he isn’t sure anymore how old he is. He remembers growing up with his parents, blissful in suburbia. His mom loved to garden, and he remembers afternoons spent crouched down with her in her flowerbeds. His dad commuted to the city and worked in a bank. On the weekends he and his parents would shift and run around in the woods. They were happy. And then hunters came. Stiles remembers being about eight or nine when he woke up to the smell of smoke. His mom rushed into his room, grabbed him in her arms, and carried him out his window and into the backyard.

 

“Where’s daddy?” Stiles asks, confused.

 

“Run, baby. Run, and do not look back!”  Stiles’ mom gives him a push towards the woods, and they begin running.  A shot rings out and Stiles begins to turn around, but his mom shouts “No! Don’t look back! Shift, and run as fast as you can. I’ll be right behind you hunny, just keep running.” Stiles shifts into his fox form, as easy as taking a breath. And then he runs.

 

He and his mom flee the hunters for weeks.  He has no idea how far they travel, but after nights of hiding in hollow trees, days of ducking and sprinting through woods and across rivers, he and his mom are cornered. The hunters have them surrounded, and his mom is in front of him, her tail puffed out in fear.

 

“Finally. You little rats have given us quite the chase, but here we are.  And now we have you, one of the last families of werefoxes in the United States.  I think your pelts will look quite good on my wall, what do you think?”

 

Stiles can’t help but cry out in fear.  They’re going to kill him and his mother and hang them on their wall! And his father is already gone. His mother turns to him, an nudges him with her nose.  After weeks in fox form, he knows what this means. It means run.

 

His mom turns to the hunters and leaps at them, fangs bared. Stiles runs.

 

….

 

Stiles thinks he’s probably somewhere around 18. He remembers growing up in the woods of Minnesota, and now he’s in…the South? It’s hard to tell, he hasn’t been in his human form in a long time.  When he was first on his own, he would turn back into his human form and steal clothes. Then he would wander around and try and find something to eat.  Sometimes people would see his dirty face and give him things. Sometimes they would call the police.  But every time he changed into a human the hunters found him, and they would hunt him again.  The last time he was human he scared a little girl. She asked him why he had so many white lines on his body.

 

….

 

Another bullet whizzes by him, and he runs up the nearest tree.

 

“We will burn this tree down, Red! Give up and join your parents. Be the finishing touch on my mantelpiece”. He hears the hunters arguing.

 

“Joanne, this is Argent land!! We can’t encroach on their territory; you know what happened to the Devreaux’s when they went after that shape shifter.  They don’t mess around”

 

“Shut up Jon! We need to finish this.  He may be the last werefox in North America, and he’s going to be ours! The Argents can take a hike, this little fox belongs to us. We’ll kill him, and be on our way. Call Chris and tell him were here to finish some business, but we’ll be out of here in days. “

 

There are more hunters?? Why, oh why did he always find more? Stiles is tired. So tired… the hunters are still bickering about this other pack of hunters, the Argents.   More people who will kill Stiles before he can even blink.  But this is another chance. It may just prolong his death, but his mom always told him never to give up.  He crawls down a branch, and leaps into another tree. If these hunters are trying to hide from another hunter family, then the best place for him to go is the town. Maybe he can lie low for a while, and leave when the hunters have found themselves in some sort of turf war.

 

The branch he lands on shakes, and gets the attention of a hunter. Another shot goes off, but this one lands. The bullet hits him in the leg, and he falls out of the tree with a bark of pain. They surround him in seconds, laughing as he tries to stand, but flops back down.  The hunters reach to grab him, but a loud growl echoes through the trees.  The hunters look up in fear, and a large shape crouches over Stiles.  Stiles smells…wolf, but then the pain gets too great and everything goes dark.

 

….

 

Stiles feels hazy when he wakes up.  He’s on something soft, and there are bright lights all around him.

“He’s gonna be okay, right Deaton?”

 

“Yes Scott, I removed the bullet and it looks like our little friend is going to be just fine”

 

Stiles is in someone’s lap. He looks up and sees the kind face of a young man.  He takes in the dark skin, crooked jaw, and kind eyes, but smells…wolf. Is this who saved him in the woods?

 

A hand reaches down and tightens a the pressure on his hind leg, and without thought he snaps out.

 

The man holding him chuckles, and Stiles watches as the bite heals.  _Werewolves_. He had been saved by werewolves. But what happened in the woods??

 

There’s a hand stroking him, and medicine running through his veins, and Stiles falls once more into darkness.

 

….

 

They’re chasing him, gaining on him with every step.  He can hear his mother crying, telling him to run.  His paws are thrashing, sprinting as fast as he can-

 

Then someone shakes him awake, a large hand stroking his fur.

 

“Shhhh…it’s okay. You were dreaming, you’re safe now.” Stiles whimpers, and buries his face into the warm body holding him.  _Safe_ , he thinks as he drifts back off to sleep.

 

He wakes again to the sound of someone cooking in a kitchen.  Stiles eyes dart around frantically, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. He’s in some sort of loft, lying on a leather couch in front of a TV.  There’s a wall of windows, and Stiles can see that’s its sometime in the early morning. How long has he been asleep?? Panic begins to fill his chest, and Stiles starts to get up only to feel a sharp pain in his leg. He falls back down with a cry of pain.

 

“Hey little buddy” It’s the man from the vet, approaching him slowly, like a skittish animal. With a start Stiles realizes that’s exactly what he is.

 

“My name is Scott. We found you in the woods, looks like you ran into some trouble with hunters, dude.  They got you good in the leg, but my buddy Dr. Deaton stitched it up and you should be better soon.”  Stiles looked down at his leg, and sure enough, there was a bandage wrapped around it and it twinged when he flexed his muscle. Stiles looked back up at the werewolf, wary. He bared his teeth.

 

“Whoa there, buddy. I’m not gonna hurt you. My pack and I scared the hunters off, and we told the Argents what happened.”  Stiles stiffens when he hears the name ‘Argent’.  These werewolves know the hunters?? They’re gonna turn him in…they know what he is, and he’s not safe.  Stiles starts to growl, and tries to crawl off of the couch. He needs to get away before they give him over to the hunters.  He hasn’t made it this far only to be betrayed by someone who he thought would understand. Stiles can’t help his pained cry as he drags himself across the couch cushions.

 

“No! Don’t move, you’ll rip your stitches! We won’t hurt you, I promise! I don’t know what scared you, but I promise you are safe here with us.  We know what it’s like to be hunted, and we won’t let anyone hurt you.” Two large hands pick Stiles up, and then all he feels in his leg is a fuzzy warmth.  The pain is gone.  Stiles looks at his leg, and he sees Scott’s hand pressed against the bandages, veins black.  He’s taking Stiles’ pain. Stiles lets out a soft sigh, and leans into Scott. Maybe he can trust someone, just for a bit.  Just until he heals, and then he’ll make his escape.

 

“I know you’re like us. You can change back you know. You can use the shower, and get some clothes.  You can stay with us until you heal. No worries. My pack will be here soon, they’re anxious to meet you”. Stiles gingerly climbs out of Scotts arms, and onto the couch. With a sigh, he shifts into his human form.

 

Scott stifles a gasp when he sees human Stiles.  Stiles knows he’s not a great sight: food hasn’t been plentiful over the years, and he’s been hurt so many times.  He knows he has terrible scars. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when a pair of sweatpants hit him in the face.  He pulls them off and sees Scott grinning crookedly at him. 

 

“Put some clothes on, and I’ll make us some lunch.  Before I go though, can I know your name?”

 

Stiles tries to speak, can’t, and clears his throat.  “Stiles” he rasps.

 

“Okay Stiles. How do feel about macaroni and cheese?” Mac n’ cheese? Stiles starts to laugh hysterically. All he’s had for years is garbage and plants from the forest. He hasn’t had mac n’ cheese since before his parents were killed. Since before he was hunted.

 

Scott puts a hand on his shoulder, concerned.

 

“I’m fine Scott. Mac n’ cheese is just so…normal. I never thought I’d ever know normal again”.  Scott just pats his back, understandingly, and walks into the kitchen.  Stiles puts on the sweatpants and t-shirt Scott gave him, and looks down at his leg.  Somehow his bandage is still there.  Magic, man. Some cool shit.

 

He puts weight on his leg, and winces.  He can feel the ache, but Scott’s werewolf voodoo is doing its job.  He limps into the kitchen to see Scott fumbling with the stove.

 

Scott turns on the radio, content to spend the time in silence.  As Scott is plating up the macaroni, Stiles hears footsteps approaching the front door.  The person smells like wolf, but Stiles can’t help but tense up in fear.  Scott looks up and smiles. “Don’t worry Stiles, that’s just Derek. He’s one of my betas. This is his loft actually. We kind of consider it pack headquarters, the rest of the gang should be around soon.”

 

The door opens and in comes a hulking man.  He’s tall and muscular, dark hair and dark eyebrows arranged on a stoic face.

 

“Hey Derek!” Scott calls, “Come have some macaroni and meet our new guest”.  Derek walks over and grunts a hello. He picks up a bowl and sits down next to Stiles at the counter.  He looks over, and Stiles can’t help but be intimidated.  He scoots his chair over an inch, making Scott laugh and Derek frown.

 

“Don’t mind his scowl, Stiles, his bark is worse than his bite”.  Derek just rolls his eyes and began eating. 

 

Scott turned around and leveled stiles with a serious look.  “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Stiles puts down his fork. He looks up at Scott, expecting the worst, and nods.

 

“What’s your full name?”

 

“Stiles Stilinski”

 

“Where are you from?”

 

“Mendota Heights, Minnesota”. Scott whistles, and Derek raises his eyebrows.

 

“What? Why is that a big deal? Am I in Wisconsin? Is that why we’re eating mac n’ cheese? Because let me tell you, a gopher will always beat a badger in fight, and I-“

 

“Stiles, we’re in Beacon Hills California”.  Stiles freezes. He’d run _all the way to California??_   He’d spent so much of his life running.  Now he finds that he’s run all the way across the country. He’s so far now…so far from home. So far from normal, and there’s no going back. Stiles breaths are coming out in short pants, and he can hear someone letting out a distressed whine. He realizes it’s him.

 

Then hands are pulling him out of his stool, and down to the floor.  He finds himself pulled against a broad chest, hands resting on his arms and someone is telling him to “breathe, Stiles, breath with me! Match my breaths. In, and out.  In and out with me.” Stiles can feel the lungs behind him expanding and contracting, and tries to make his do the same. Tries to make his lungs take in air instead of _nothing_. After a few minutes his gasps give way to breaths, and he feels someone wipe the tears off of his face.  He blinks his eyes open to see Scott wiping away his tears.  That means he’s sitting in Derek’s lap, cradled against his chest.

 

“Ya back with us? I’m sorry I upset you; I didn’t know that you would react like that. What happened, Stiles?”

 

“I…I was nine, I think? When the hunters came. We were in Minnesota, and I was with my parents, and they…they tried to burn our house down.” Derek stiffens behind him, his arms wrapping tighter around Stiles.  “We ran. My dad never made it out of the house. I don’t know how long my mom was with me until they…got her too, but then I ran.  And I haven’t stopped.”  There’s silence after he finishes talking. 

 

Scott clears his throat. “You’ve been running for that long? How old are you now?” Stiles just shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

 

“I haven’t been…human much. Not for a while. People call the cops when human boys steal. They don’t see foxes.”  Stiles can feel Derek huff a quiet laugh, and leans further back into his arms.

 

“And they…did all this to you?”  Scott gestures to his arms, which are covered in scars.  Stiles nods.

 

“God…they followed you all the way to Beacon Hills…Derek, did Allison talk to Chris about these hunters? Stiles, we work with the hunters here.  Allison is an Argent, but she’s a member of my pack.  You can trust them.  We ran the hunters who were after you out of the forest, but I’ll see what Chris can do to keep them out.” 

 

Stiles just nods, too overcome with emotion to respond.  He thinks he might actually be safe now.

 

Scott seems to be able to tell that Stiles has reached his limit, and pulls him to his feet.

 

“C’mon, bud. Lets finish our lunch and then Derek will entertain you while I run a few errands.  He’s quite the conversationalist.” Derek just rolls his eyes and picks his spoon back up.

 

….

 

Stiles meets the rest of the pack that night.  He meets Allison, the beautiful huntress with the dimples of an angel but the nerves of warrior. He meets Erica, a fierce beta with a sharp smile and an even sharper sense of humor.  Then there’s Boyd, stoic and large, with one of the driest senses of humor Stiles has ever seen. Isaac is quieter than the others, doesn’t go anywhere without a scarf, and is the most tactile. They make quite the group.

 

A few days later he meets Lydia, and boy does she blow his socks off. She takes one look at him, long fingernails, scruffy hair, and “tsks”.  That day he experiences his first haircut and his first shopping trip. Stiles doesn’t think he wants a repeat of the afternoon.

 

Stiles hadn’t had much time to read while on the run, and he never got a chance to go to high school, but he’s always been a quick learner.  One afternoon while the others are out running in the woods (Lydia calls it “puppy playtime” much to the annoyance of the others), Stiles wanders over to Lydia.  She’s working on something, her brow furrowed.  Stiles plops down at the table next to her, and asks “whatcha doing?”

 

“It’s called Ken Ken: you use math to solve puzzles”

 

“Ohhhh, sounds fun! My mom and I did puzzles all the time as a kid.” Lydia slid a paper and pen over to Stiles.    


“Here’s an easy one. Beat it, then come back”.

 

For the next few weeks whenever the pack is out running without him, he and Lydia are doing puzzles. Stiles is getting fast, and whenever Stiles cheers when he completes the puzzles he can see the pride behind Lydia’s annoyed scowl. She and Stiles work for hours, and Stiles gets used to Lydia giving him puzzles and articles to read.  She soon coaxes Stiles back into the world of curiosity. She teaches him how to access Wikipedia, and they lose him for hours.

 

Then there are the days he runs with the pack.  Stiles turns into his fox form, and runs with the wolves.  They race through the woods, playing tag and nipping at each other’s tails. These days end in puppy piles, Scott and Derek curled around Stiles.  No one pressures him to talk about his family.

 

It’s good. Scott is good to him. Erica takes him on as her partner in crime, the Batman to her Catwoman.  Boyd gets used to giving Stiles a piggyback ride home from pack nights out: Stiles gets used to falling asleep on his broad back, his even breathing lulling him to sleep.  Isaac is his cuddle buddy. When the pack watches movies on Friday nights, Isaac winds his legs with Stiles.  He and Isaac are both touch starved, their childhoods leading them to crave the positive physical attention of others.  Allison will bake with Stiles, an act he used to share with his mom.  One afternoon Stiles is feeling particularly nostalgic and Allison helps him bake white chocolate chip cookies. Scott is the best alpha. He is loving, understanding when Stiles can’t or won’t speak, proud when Stiles gets a handle on social interactions. Scott understands his sense of humor, and has welcomed him into his pack.  And Derek.  Derek has seen the broken little boy Stiles never got a chance to grow out of, and has taken him under his wing.  He is gruff, but affectionate.  He lets Stiles tag along when he goes for walks or runs errands.  He lets Stiles sleep on his shoulder when he gets tired during group meetings.  He teaches Stiles self defense.

 

Stiles spends a month falling in love with the McCall pack.  He wakes up knowing he could be home again; with people he knows understand where he’s come from.  The first time someone calls him ‘Red’ and Stiles has a panic attack, Scott has a pack meeting and it never happens again.  When one of the betas is too rough with him, and Stiles shifts and hides under the house, Derek coaxes him out and begins teaching him self-defense.  In return, when a fire is shown on the TV Stiles crawls into Derek’s lap to distract him.  He’s found family again.

 

….

 

And then everything changes. Stiles is going for a walk in the woods. Everyone else is at work or running errands, and he’s feeling at peace with the wind running through his fur.  Then they have him.  An arrow pierces through his paw, and Stiles lets out a scream as he begins to run. He had been coaxed into a false sense of security: he thought that the Argents would keep them away. He thought that the McCall pack would keep him safe.

 

Before he knows it, he’s been scooped up in a net, his paw bleeding and his vision going dark. He had a nice life. He got to have two loving families.

 

Stiles wakes up in what he thinks is the trunk of a car.  Everything is dark, and his leg is still bleeding sluggishly. He knows that every turn of the car wheel takes him away from the McCall pack, and his veins fill with panic.  They’ll never find him. Stiles whimpers, and tries to find a way out. No dice.  He’s in too much pain to switch into his human form, and there’s no way he can escape as he is.

 

Stiles passes out for a what feels like a moment, but he comes too when the hunters lift him out of the trunk.

 

“Hello again, little Red” they coo.  “Looks like you snuggled yourself up to the last Hale and a True Alpha. What luck. Good work wiggling your way into that pack, Red.  Now instead of just killing the last werefox, we can lure in some of the most wanted werewolves. You really are our lucky charm.”

 

Stiles shivers in fear, and then begins to thrash.  If he can anger them into killing him, they’ll leave his pack alone.  The McCall pack can go free. Stiles bites the hands that are holding him, but instead of the swift death he desires, he feels the prick of a needle in his neck.  Everything goes dark.

 

….

 

Stiles slips in and out of consciousness for a long time.  Whatever drug they had given him was a dose for a much larger animal, and Stiles feels heavy and confused.  He pulls himself out of the cursed fog when he feels a familiar large hand petting his neck. He cracks his eyes open, and looks up into the bloody face of Derek Hale.  Derek smiles at him with a feral grin, and Stiles can feel the relief take over his body.  They came for him.

 

Stiles doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but when he opens them again he’s in Deaton’s office. The vet looks down on him with kind eyes, and tightens his bandages.  It’s a familiar sight. 

 

“Hello again, Stiles. I’m sorry to see you again like this, but you are going to be perfectly fine.  The arrow caused some damage, but your abilities, though slower than that of a wolf, should heal it in time.  I just ask that you rest for a while, and avoid strenuous activity. I think there are some people who are pretty excited to see you.”

 

Into his line of vision comes Scott and the rest of the pack, crowding around his examination table.

 

“Hey buddy! I’m glad you’re okay. The hunters are gone: we…killed some of them, but the Argents made sure none of them will ever come back. It’s all good now”.

 

Stiles sighs. He may finally, officially, _irrevocably_ , be free of them. He can live again. A large thumb is rubbing behind his ear, and Stiles squints his eyes in pleasure.  He tilts his head up and looks at Derek.  Derek smiles softly at him, and continues to pet him.

 

“Welcome home” he says, softly.  Maybe he is. Maybe he found his way home. And then Stiles rolls his eyes at his own clichéd self monologue.  It’s worth it, but geez he sounds cheesy.  But then Erica and Isaac have their hands on his fur, soothing him. Boyd is standing behind them, smiling softly at him.  Scott has his arms around Allison, telling her how happy he is Stiles is home. Stiles feels warm, and he can feel sleep calling him.  Now he can answer. Now he has the privilege of being able to let his eyes close, to letting the feeling of Derek rubbing his ears soothe him to sleep.  He’ll wake up soon, and Boyd will bring him curly fries and Scott will let him pick the movie. He’ll pick Hot Rod and laugh when Derek rolls his eyes.  It will be good. Life will finally be good again.


End file.
